Cilla walked toward Ren, palms out, a placating gesture. "Calm down."
"I'm going to kill him." The bastard had dared to hurt Cilla. First he'd slashed at her confidence in her sexuality—advising her to watch porn, good God—then he'd taken away what she considered her crowning glory by stealing into her house, uninvited.
"No, Ren." She put one small hand on his chest, over his heart. The other wrapped around his forearm, a cool touch that did nothing for his temper. He was vibrating with the power of it.
"It's just hair," she said. "I probably should have done something with it long ago."
"You didn't want to cut it. You never wanted to cut it. I remember you saying that."
Cilla looked down. "Partly because of you. You once told me how pretty it was and how you liked it long." She glanced up at him, a little smile quirking her lips. "I didn't get a lot of male attention when I was young and...and I kind of took that compliment to heart."
He stared at her, picturing that quiet child she'd been, with her big blue eyes and her long fall of hair. "Oh, Cilla."
She touched the short ends of it now. "I'm glad to hear you like it this way, too."
"It's very pretty, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to kill the man."
Her expression turned alarmed. "Ren—"
"Look, I have to do something," he said, still infuriated by the idea of what that fucking sneak had done.
"Then kiss me," she whispered.
"Not now—"
"Kiss me, Ren." She stepped into his body. "That's the something you can do for me."
He gritted his teeth, his cock going hard despite his temper as she pressed her hips to his. "It's not enough."
"It's what I need."
"Cilla—"
"Make me feel desirable," she said, her voice sweet temptation. "Show me a man finds me sexy. That you find me sexy."
"Of course you're sexy," he muttered, trying to ignore the hand that stole around to the small of his back and slid beneath his shirt. "But right now—"
Her mouth muffled the rest of the sentence. On tiptoe, Cilla kissed him, her small tongue sliding between his lips as he groaned. His body was stiff against hers, his rage had infused his muscles with cement, it seemed, but she didn't appear to notice as she wrapped an arm around his neck, and kept kissing, kissing, kissing.
She maddened him. He wanted action, his temperament compelled him to redress the wrong done to her. "I need to teach him a lesson," he said against her mouth.
"Teach me instead," she said, sliding her lips along his jaw. "Teach me everything you know about sex."
God. Her tongue was painting a wet design on his neck. His hands closed over her hips, in preparation for pushing her away. "We both know you don't need a mentor."
"I need a man, Ren. Right now I need you."
I need you. The vessel that contained his anger broke then, shattering like a glass container to release new emotions, a tangled rush of them: inevitability, dread, yearning, lust, some feeling that was an uneasy precursor to loss. With sudden disquiet, Ren stepped back.
He should go! Find Tad and make him pay!
Cilla moved into him again, her body fragrant and her hold firm. On tiptoe, she whispered in his ear. "Fuck me. Take me to bed and fuck me."
He shuddered, those raunchy words out of her sweet mouth laying waste to his violent intentions as well as his Galahad hesitation. This was the result of being rock royalty—of being String Bean Colson's son. No will power. If Ren wanted something, well, he took it.
Later, he'd get to the asshole. Later, he'd deal with the insult and his anger. Now it was time for Cilla. Fuck me. She'd said that. Take me to bed and fuck me.
Galvanized, his arms banded her body and he hoisted her up so he could take her lips the way he wanted to. As he slanted his head her legs came around his hips and he kneaded her ass as he made for the closest mattress.
He tossed her to the one where they'd first slept together and followed her down. She giggled, the sound so sweet that he attacked the fastening of her jeans to make her understand this was no laughing matter. "I'm going to do you," he said, yanking denim and silky panties down her legs to just below her knees. Good God. She was completely bare down there and the top of his head threatened to explode again, but for a completely different—better—reason. "I'm going to show you what you do to me."
In the low glow from the bedside lamp, he saw she was up on her elbows, her chest heaving. Her big blue eyes were trained on him as he licked his thumb then insinuated it along the groove of her intimate flesh. She jerked at the first touch and he sucked in a breath as he felt her juicy wetness spread over his skin.
"You're drenched," he said, flicking her a glance.
Her cheeks turned even pinker. "Ren."
"Say my name just like that," he whispered, nudging her clit with the pad of his thumb. "I like that plea in your voice."
She moaned, her head dropping back as he circled the knot of nerves. "I still have my boots on. You're still dressed."
Pushing up the hem of her blouse, he circled her navel with tip of his tongue. "You come again and I'll take off all your clothes."
"Ren..."
"You come again, and I'll take off mine."
Her skin was like nothing he'd felt before, smelled before, tasted before. He continued to play with her, his thumb rolling, pressing, teasing as he kissed her belly, scraped his beard against her hipbones, sucked the skin below her navel to mark her.
She squirmed in his hold, her breath coming fast, her whole body trembling.
"Good, baby?" he asked.
Her only answer was to draw up her heels, her legs widening as far as her pants would allow. He knew the restraint would only ratchet her desire higher and as he leaned up to take her mouth, he pressed his free palm on her shoulder, anchoring her to the mattress. More masculine control.
It made her wild.
She sucked on his tongue, she made low noises at the back of her throat, her hips tilted into the hand that played with her sex. He took his thumb from her and she froze, then jerked her mouth from his. "Ren," she said, sounding peeved.
"Be still then," he advised, stroking his knuckles along the inside of her thigh, in a light, calming caress. Down. Up. Her flesh quivered.
"Ren." This time it was breathy and sweet.
To reward her, he returned to the liquid-glazed flesh with more caresses. Her body was swollen and heated there, and the layers were opened like a lovely, luscious flower to his gaze. The tips of two fingers pressed into the soft entrance and when she squirmed again, he stilled them, sending her another quelling look. Her gaze trained on his face, she instantly stopped moving and then he said "Good," and slid the long digits into her, all the way, until his palm cupped her smooth and soft labial lips.
Her moan wrapped around his hard cock and tugged. "Pretty girl," he said, watching his hand start a gentle rocking action. "You're so pretty all over." An image of her breasts came to mind, framed by the stretchy lace of her bra that he'd tucked beneath them. Her pale nipples had drawn hard against his mouth, poking like berries against his tongue as he sucked on them.
Glancing up, he saw her gaze was fixed on him, and he could feel the tension invading her body. But she didn't move except for the quivering of her belly and the fluttering of her internal muscles against his pulsing fingers. God, he thought, so damn sweet. He reached with his free hand to cup her hot cheek. She turned her face to kiss his palm.
His heart spasmed against another punch of mingled dread and longing, leaving a painful ache in his chest.
"Cilla," he whispered, his voice rough. Oh, shit. What was happening here?
Her lips touched his hand once again and he drew it away to run his thumb over that valentine-shaped mouth. She ducked her chin, taking the digit into its heat and when she sucked, all his muscles steeled and his cock went so hard he nearly lost his mind.
Focus, he told himself. Focus on her pleasure.
His fin
gers moved in the wet clasp of her body, twisting, thrusting, establishing a rhythm as he toyed with the engorged nub of her clitoris, swollen for him. Her hips rose into his touch and he didn't stop her or stop himself this time. Her little gasp was his final warning, and then she was crying out as the crisis came over her. There was no way he couldn't watch. His gaze shifted to her face as her cheeks flushed pink and her lashes drifted down. She rode out the long orgasm on his hand, her muscles tight around his fingers, her flesh wetter than ever. God, he thought. Beautiful. So beautiful.
When she opened her eyes, he was tugging off her boots and socks. "Ren," she said, holding out a hand.
"In a minute, kid," he said, as he drew off the rest of her clothes. Then he gathered her delicate nakedness into his arms, the armor of his own jeans and shirt necessary while he attempted to gain some control.
"You now," she said, her voice husky. "Come on. You promised to teach me everything."
He turned them to their sides, her back to his front, to hide the doubt and concern that surely showed on his face. How could he give her any further instruction when he couldn't say for sure what had just happened? When he didn't understand how a closed-mouth kiss on the palm of his hand—that he could feel even still—seemed so dangerous. It was something he had no experience with.
None at all, and he was afraid it might go wrong for both of them.
Chapter 9
Spooned with Ren, Cilla wiggled in his hold. His arm tightened around her and she wiggled again, secretly enjoying the scrape of denim against her bare bottom. It brushed the bulge behind Ren's zipper too, and she was ready to get a closer look at that, even as she still tingled from her latest orgasm.
Wow. Renford Colson had given her an orgasm. A second orgasm. And it had been fabulous, she thought, feeling a cat-with-cream smile curving her mouth. Absolutely fabulous. She wiggled deeper into his body.
But this time Ren shifted his hips away from hers, and drew her hair to the side to press a kiss on her neck, right where it joined her shoulder. "Cilla," he started. "About the hair incident—"
"Oh, no," she said. "We're done with that." Going over it again would only rile Ren and she'd more than half-believed he was actually prepared to hurt Tad when he'd first learned of it. Since then they'd moved on to newer, more pleasurable pastures and she planned on staying there.
"I think—"
"It's my business," she said, turning to face him. Her ex wasn't going to intrude here. "Promise me we're done with that."
He was already shaking his head. "No promises."
Okay, time to try another tack. "What about the ones you already gave me?"
His eyebrows drew together. "Which?"
She lowered her voice in a Ren-dition of his. "'You come again and I'll take off all your clothes. You come again, and I'll take off mine.'" She wanted that, badly. She wanted to be able to see and touch, kiss and caress the sinew and bone and skin that was all sexy Ren.
His lips quirked. "I probably shouldn't have said that." A look of regret entered his eyes. "And Cilla, we probably shouldn't have..."
The look, the words, felt like a stab in the side. She was in the middle of living out a fantasy and he was filled with remorse? Except... "Um, Ren, you did take off my clothes. If this was such a bad idea in your mind, why am I naked right now?"
He blinked, then let out a low laugh. "Christ, Cilla." His big hands ran down her back to cup her behind and a delicious shiver rolled over her skin. "The lizard part of my brain can't resist you, I guess. You're one hell of a temptation."
"You're a temptation to me, too. What's wrong with two consenting adults giving in to mutual enticement?" She gave him her best smile. "Please?"
His fingers tightened on her bottom and he adopted a mock-stern expression. "I should spank you for trying to break my will."
Her lungs seized even as an imp took over her mouth. "Maybe...maybe I'd like that." She could feel a blush bloom on every inch of her skin.
Ren's eyes closed as if he was in pain. "What am I going to do with you?"
"Anything," she whispered in the imp's seductive voice and she saw his eyes fly open. This breaking of Ren's will was getting to be fun. For obvious reasons, sex had never before been a playful subject with her, but now... "Anything your heart desires."
He groaned, then caught her fingers as they moved to his fly. "Now what did we say about the next order of events?"
And with that he turned her again, returning her body to the cradle of his with one big hand cupping her breast and the other splayed across her belly. His mouth was at her ear. "Prop your top leg on mine," he said, sliding his knee between hers.
The position slightly spread her labia, the room's air cool on the fevered, still damp flesh. Cilla's chest tightened and a hot chill ran down her back. "Um, Ren..."
He tenderly kneaded her breast as the other hand crept lower. "Your clit's very sensitive right now, isn't it?"
Cilla shivered again, finding the question both highly embarrassing and incredibly erotic. Clit. She'd never even thought the word in her head, but hearing it in his dark male voice made her nipples go hard. He laughed as if he knew, tweaking one, then plucking the other.
"You're sensitive all over," he continued. "So I'll be careful with you, princess. So careful until you come once more in my hand."
She didn't breathe as Ren's questing fingers drifted past her bare mons. "I like that you wax," he said. "I like how there's nothing between me and your skin."
On a moan, Cilla buried her hot face in the pillowcase. She caught the fabric with her teeth when he used his thumb and forefinger to expose the nub of flesh at the top of her sex. It throbbed, the whole area below her belly button super-sensitized. Her inner muscles clenched on nothing and she ached to be filled there.
His free hand shifted from her breast to her mouth. "Wet my fingers, baby. Lube them up for me."
She might climax just from listening to him! But when his fingertips pressed between her lips, opening her there, too, she drew them into her mouth and rolled her tongue along and over them.
"Yeah, girl," Ren praised, then pulled them free. In an instant they were rolling over her sweet spot in very light, lazy little circles. And in an instant she was moaning, pleading, so turned on she could barely hear herself over the fast whoosh whoosh whoosh of blood in her ears.
"Ren." She needed him to give firmer pressure, to kiss her, to do something more. Her hands grasped his forearms, trying to communicate the fervency of her desire. "Ren."
"Baby," he said, scolding a little. "Take your hands away...or do I need to tie them up?"
Cilla froze, her heart pounding against her breastbone.
His whisper was hot against her ear. "I did promise you an education, didn't I?"
One-by-one, her fingers loosened their hold. She'd die, just die, if he took control that way.
Die of passion-overload.
He laughed. "Next time." And then he was kissing her neck and toying with her sex with his clever hands and she was rocking against his big body behind hers, his jeans and shirt grazing her nakedness. The sound of her panting filled the room and she was reaching, reaching, but her senses were charged to such a degree that they held her up on a wave of pleasure so strong she thought it would prevent her from tipping over into bliss.
"Let go, baby," Ren whispered in his dark voice. "Let go, baby, because then I'm going to fill you up and fuck you good."
His teeth closed over the lobe of her ear and she tumbled, falling into a breath-stealing, pulse-pounding, oh-yes-I-am-dying orgasm.
Stunned by the force of it, she lay boneless as Ren rose to stand near the end of the bed while he efficiently undressed.
It was enough to rouse her. Without a qualm, Cilla ogled him shamelessly. For so long she'd considered herself not a highly sexualized being, but as Ren was revealed to her she discovered she'd been all wrong in her thinking. His body fascinated her. He stripped off his shirt and her belly fluttered at the sight
of his dark tattoo, its primitive design only highlighting the strength of him, the male architecture of his shoulders and pectorals and biceps. Her gaze dropped to his flexing forearms, the long muscles of them moving as they worked at his jeans then pushed both the denim and his boxers away.
Her gaze took in his penis. With her past few lovers—okay, two—she'd politely kept her gaze trained away from that area, but with Ren...with Ren she didn't feel polite at all. She stared at the stiff column of flesh, the veins that traced over it, the large cap, heavy and swollen. His testicles were fascinating to her too, she realized. So full and potent-looking. Manly.
All of him completely...male.
His right hand gripped his shaft, his thumb ghosting over the head. "Like what you see, princess?" His fist swept down, to the root, then below, his fingertips tracing his balls.
She shivered and she knew he could see it because he laughed, low and wicked while he caressed himself again. Then he stalked closer, his knees brushing the end of the mattress. Without conscious thought, primal instinct sent her scooting away until her shoulders hit the headboard.
With one knee on the bed, Ren paused, his gaze trained on her face, his eyes narrow. "Baby...we can halt everything right now."
Cilla stared at him, the bones and the muscles, the lean power in his body. Hers, if she wanted it. To touch, to kiss, to take into her body. The prospect nearly rendered her speechless. Maybe she'd always held back with her previous two lovers because she didn't know how to reach out, how to connect, how to actually be with someone. But fear or shyness or inexperience wasn't going to stop her this time. Not when it was Ren.
"Yes," she said.
"Yes, we should stop?" His voice was soft.
"No. I mean yes." Cilla shook her head, aware she was confusing him. Her arm lifted. "Yes, I want you," she said, pointing to him. A gleam came to his eye and his smile was that delightful, wicked, thrilling, dangerous Ren smile. From somewhere, a condom appeared in his hand.
Light My Fire Page 12
